


If the Creek Don’t Rise

by taizi



Series: the fake engagement au [1]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, and im not sorry, implied leosagi, past ramona, raph and mike are buddies, the plot is borrowed straight from the pauly shore movie son in law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 06:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16969740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taizi/pseuds/taizi
Summary: In which Raphael and Michelangelo are UCLA students and bring some friends home to South Dakota for Thanksgiving, where Casey becomes a horticulture enthusiast, Woody has great taste in art, and Raphael fakes an engagement.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU I started writing for @tmntflashfic’s first theme 'beginnings.’ It’s very loosely based off the old Pauly Shore movie “Son in Law,” and I’ll thank y'all not to judge me for that. <3 This AU is not to be taken seriously, so please don’t take it too seriously. It got longer than I anticipated, so I cut it into three parts.
> 
> Titled after something my nana always says, “If the lord’s willing and the creek don’t rise,” which just means that as long as nothing unexpected happens, everything will go to plan.

“Are you excited about going home?” Mikey asked, and Raphael could have laughed.

“Not as excited as I was about getting the hell out of there in the first place.”

“ _Hah_ , for sure. But I was thinking about inviting Woody back with us, since he doesn’t have any plans. Do you think dad would mind?”

“Nah. You should be more worried about what he’ll think of your hair.”

“Puh- _lease_ , Raph, I’m an adult. I can do whatever I want to my hair,” he said disdainfully—and then ruined it a moment later, with an anxious, “You don’t think he’ll _hate_ it, do you?”

Raph glanced up from his laptop, into almond-shaped amber eyes just a few shades lighter than his own.

They were the lesser two of four brothers, and it made them close. Best friends in the trenches of the not-good-enough. Mikey had been so sure he couldn’t do it by himself that he _never_ would have applied to his dream school if Raph hadn’t applied with him. The idea of getting as far away from South Dakota as the West Coast was enough incentive on its own; the fact that it would be for Mikey only sealed the deal.

Two months ago, Mikey sailed into Raph’s room with bleach-blond hair. Three weeks after that, while they were grabbing a bite to eat between classes, he tugged his shirt down to expose his collarbone, and the watercolor sea turtle newly tattooed there. Now, he was squeezed in next to Raph on Raph’s twin bed, in a sleeveless UCLA hoodie and a pair of his roommate’s cut-off shorts and a dozen woven bracelets on each of his wrists, happy and perfectly at home.

Michelangelo _belonged_ to California. Going there for college was the best decision they ever made, and this confident, sunkissed version of his little brother was the one Raphael wanted to keep.

“If they give you hell, I’ll bleach mine, too,” he finally said, and it was the right thing to say when it made Mikey smile.

The dorm room door opened dramatically, stopping short of slamming into the wall thanks to the overturned skateboard jammed in the way, and a few seconds later there was a third body on Raph’s bed. Mikey giggled, drawing his legs up to make room, while Raph rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.

“I’m trying to write a paper here, Jones. Your bed is five feet in _that_ direction.”

“That’s five feet I don’t got in me, bro,” Casey replied, and made a show of getting comfortable. “Besides, you’ve been trying to write that paper for like two days now, don’t make it about me.”

“And here I thought _everything_ was about you.”

But Casey lifted his head with a slanting, sideways grin that took the wind right out of Raph’s sails. The guy was cocky and insufferable and had a fifth grade sense of humor—but he skated on the charming side of downright stupid, and he _knew_ it. Raph had been roommates with him for three months now, and he still had absolutely no guard built against that grin.

And that was becoming a problem.

“What about you, Casey?” Mikey interjected. “Are you excited about going home for break?”

“No way,” was the immediate reply. “Given two choices, I’d rather chew off my own arm than cross the country to spend a week at my old man’s house. And I mean that.”

“ _Ugh_ , you dudes are a couple of Thanksgiving Scrooges. I’m going back to my room.” Mikey climbed over Raph to get out of the bed, jostling Raph’s computer and bumping Casey none-too-gently with a foot before he finally made it to the floor. And then he turned back graciously and wrapped octopus arms around Raph’s shoulders, hugging him tight. “I still love you, though.”

“Get off me.” But Raph was gentle as he shoved Mikey toward the door. “And call dad before you invite Woody, don’t just be like _'aw, it’ll work out,_ ’ 'cause that shit gets us _both_ in trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll go call him right now. Later, skaters!”

With more room on the bed, Casey stretched out a little more, folding his arms under his head. “That kid sure has changed since he got here. We shoulda snapped a before and after picture.” Raph grunted noncommittally, and returned to typing. After a moment, Casey’s sneakered foot nudged his elbow. “Hey. How much younger is he than you? You’re both in the same year.”

“I’m a year older. But Mikey was born in the early spring, and I was born in late fall, so that put us in the same age group when school registration rolled around.”

“Huh,” Casey said, and then, “What about your other brothers?”

“What is this, Twenty Questions? I told you I’m trying to work here.”

“Dude, it’s like, five minutes till holiday break—no one cares about your stupid overdue paper. So c'mon, what about 'em?”

Raph seriously considered kicking him off the bed, but he knew Casey would just take that as an invitation to start a stupid wrestling match, and then Raph really _wouldn’t_ get anything done. And Casey was irritating, but that was just his default setting; there was real interest in his face, like Raph’s homelife and Raph’s family were the most conversation-worthy topics in all of L.A.

And that look on his face, coupled with the happily hateful way he talked about his dad, made Raph’s automatic annoyance relent a little into something kinder.

“Don and Mikey are twins,” he replied grudgingly. “The non-identical kind. But Don’s a literal genius, so he skipped like a hundred grades. And Leo’s two years older than me.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Casey said. “I mean, I have a sister, but she lives with an aunt in Jersey. We ain’t close like you guys are. We would never have gone to college together, that’s for sure.”

“Mikey’s always wanted to come here,” Raph muttered. “And I didn’t care where I went, s'long as Don and Leo weren’t there.”

Raph could take an engine apart and put it back together, and he could coax a skittish mare in from the meadow without a rope or an apple or any tricks up his sleeve; Mikey could _make,_ and his half of the garage looked like it belonged in a magazine or a museum—clay sculptures and painted canvases and stacks of loose-leaf notebooks filled with sketches only Raph had ever seen.

But everyone in their hometown was good with machines and farm animals. Everyone knew someone who was _'good at art.’_ Leo had been homecoming king and captain of the baseball team. Don had been student body president and valedictorian. Their talents earned them trophies, and pictures in the newspaper, and they didn’t _mean_ to cast such long shadows, but their brothers were effectively overshadowed anyway.

Raph would take a bullet for any member of his family, no exceptions (and he _had_ taken a kick from a horse for Donnie once, he still had the lightning-shaped scar on his shoulder to prove it) and he loved them more than he knew what to do with.  

But when Leo went to State, and Donnie enrolled at NYU, they took their shadows with them. And for Raph, it was like seeing the sun for the first time in years. 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, they’re great. We may not be living together anymore, but we all talk constantly—on Skype, and Facebook, and—like, look.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it, holding it up for Casey to see a message thread. “Leo texted me like nine hundred times today about some guy he met at a mixer, because he’s a _dork._ I can’t wait to see 'em again,” Raph admitted, flicking a quick look at Casey through his dark fringe. “They’re just—y'know, _perfect._ Kinda gets old constantly trying to live up to all that.”

“Nobody’s perfect, bro. I bet you had some stuff they were jealous of growin’ up, too.”

“I seriously doubt it.” Glancing back at his paper, Raph admitted defeat. Saved it, e-mailed it off, and then washed his hands of any and all schoolwork for the next nine days. Closing his laptop, and leaning over to slide it just under his bed, safely out of the way of stomping feet and constant shenanigans, Raph turned a question over and over in his head before he finally let it leave his mouth: “Are you really not goin’ anywhere for break?”

“Oh, yeah. The whole point of going to school in California was so I would literally _never_ have to see my dad again,” Casey said cheerfully. “I’m just gonna kick it here and munch solo.”

That damn _grin_ again.

And eyeing his friend warily, Raph could picture exactly how a week on his own would play out.

Their Xbox was a duct-taped, hardly-functioning piece of shit, which would mean that Casey would be mostly bored. And their mini-fridge contained nothing more substantial than Rockstars and Little Debbies, which would lead Casey to order from his favorite textbook-health-code-violation Chinese restaurant until he ran out of money, and then he would starve. And all of their friends were going to be gone for a week, which would leave Casey to his own devices.

A bored, hungry and unsupervised Casey Jones was one of the most dangerous things Raph could come up with.

And since Raph had a self-destructive streak a mile wide, and an utter lack of any functioning sense of self-preservation to go with it, he took a deep breath, flopped back onto his pillows, and told the ceiling, “Y'know, Mikey’s a pretty good cook.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. We all have to go to the store with him two days before Thanksgiving to help carry, because he buys such a shit ton of food.” Still carefully not looking at his roommate, Raph added, “And you could meet Spike. You ever been on a horse before?”

Casey didn’t answer for a minute; then he levered himself up on his elbows and stared at Raph from the opposite end of Raph’s tiny bed.

“Yeah, no. There weren’t a lot of horses in Brooklyn for a young Casey Jones to play Lone Ranger with, kemosabe,” was his smartass reply, and Raphael felt himself grin. “Don’t lie, I _know_ you did. And—look, dude, are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Raph replied easily, warmed to the idea, warmed by the way it made Casey’s face light up. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

* * *

Woody had a car, a fuel-efficient little Honda Fit, and the drive from California to South Dakota took about two days. They left in the middle of Saturday, when the four of them realized they had nothing better to do and there was no point waiting around until break officially started, so they pulled down the long drive in front of the farmhouse Monday evening—the sunset was painting the sky in pink and orange, and already there were figures waiting for them on the porch, waving widely with both arms.

And that was when Raph found himself mirroring Mikey’s ten-thousand-kilowatt smile; and when Mikey fell out the passenger-side door before the car had rolled to a complete stop, Raph was right behind him, and their brothers met them in the middle of the yard.

“Oh, my _god_ , Mikey, _look_ at you—”

“Raph, you’re almost as tall as me! When did that happen?”

Mikey was laughing, shoving Leo’s hands out of his hair, and Raph returned Donnie’s tight hug with equal force. God, he had missed them.

“Dad’s inside making dinner,” Leo said, trading Mikey to Don for a chance to wrap his arms around Raph in turn. The twins were already talking at about a mile a minute, squeezing each other for all they were worth, and Leo added, “We didn’t expect you for at least another hour!”

“Yeah, well, we weren’t expecting Casey to channel his inner Speed Racer when it was his turn to drive this morning,” Raph replied wryly, muffled against Leo’s broad shoulder. When they parted, Raph continued, “I never believed in God till today. It’s a literal, Biblical _miracle_ that we managed to avoid every speed trap in the state of Wyoming.”

“We like to call that _skill,_ Raph,” Casey said loftily, a few bags strung over his shoulders while Woody unpacked the trunk, and Raph realized there were still introductions to be made.

“Oh, yeah—guys, this is my roommate Casey Jones,” he said, stepping back and encompassing their college buddies in a wide gesture of his arm, “and Mikey’s roommate, Woody Dirkins.”

Mikey pulled away from Donnie with an 'oh, yeah!’ of his own, and tugged Woody over by the arm to meet him. Donnie’s eyebrows went up when Woody reached over to shake his hand, and he arched a knowing look at Mikey that made the kid’s tanned face flush red.

Interesting.

“Nice to meet you both,” Leo said genuinely, shaking Casey’s hand with that charming country hospitality he’d probably never outgrow. “Now c'mon inside, everybody. Go unpack and get settled. Pork chops and sweet potatoes on the menu tonight.”

Mikey gasped in real delight. “And cornbread?”

“And cornbread,” was Leo’s indulgent reply. “With blueberries.”

Mikey whooped and snatched a few bags off the ground, beating feet up the porch steps and slamming through the screen door. Easy-going Woody shook his head and followed at a softer pace with Donnie, the two of them talking in voices that were similar for all their fond exasperation.

Raph lingered, taking in the yard—the clusters of goldenrod along the base of the old wooden post fence, the wheel ruts in the worn dirt path that winged out toward the barn. Everything smelled like late apple blossoms and fresh mown hay, and for all that he’d been convinced that he hadn’t missed it, Raph was somehow soglad to be home.

“Dude, you gotta get me a pair of overalls and a bandanna, like, _yesterday,”_ Casey said from beside his shoulder. “I see chickens over there—just loose, random chickens, right over there—and it’s like, I dunno, it’s bringing out the farmer in me. I need to herd them back to safety.”

“Oh my god, Jones. You’re not going to herd those chickens.”

“Not without overalls and a bandanna, I’m not.”

Leonardo wasn’t even trying not to laugh at both of them on his way back up to the house, and Casey squawked indignantly when Raph gave him a shove in the same direction. It was cool outside in the fall, but content and comfort were expanding warmly in Raph’s chest, and for this brief pocket of time he was perfectly at peace, and he didn’t shrug him off when Casey threw an arm around his shoulders.

“For real, though, Raph—thanks,” his friend said genuinely. “For inviting me. I haven’t had a Thanksgiving in _years._ This is gonna be an awesome week.”

And then Casey _grinned_ at him, familiar and devastating, close enough to lean into and kiss—tearing through all of Raph’s feeble defenses the way he always did, until the only thing left to do was say a prayer and grin right back.


	2. Chapter 2

After dinner that first night in the house, father tasked Raphael with setting up the fold-away cot in his room for Casey – which meant digging it out of storage in the basement, and lugging it up two flights of stairs. By the second floor landing, Raph was seriously rethinking ever inviting a guest home for the holidays, ever again.

Mikey still had a bunk bed in his childhood bedroom, with a twin-sized top and a double-sized bottom, so he and Woody had less set-up to do in regards to their sleeping arrangements and more time to argue who got which bunk and goof around and settle in.

As he passed Mikey’s cracked door, Raphael overheard a bubble of conversation.

“Did you paint this?”

“What – oh. Uh, I forgot that stuff was up here.”

Mikey had been a shy, self-conscious thing growing up in their small town, and an ugly incident in high school with that creep Bradford had really done a number on him, left a mark on him for _years_.They’d been home for less than twenty-four hours and already the place was trying to slam a lid on the brand-new confidence Mikey had picked up while he was away – but it sounded like Woody wasn’t going to let it go without a fight.

“I mean, yeah, I did, but that was _awhile_ ago,” Mikey was saying, sounding almost exactly like he was twelve years old again, tentatively showing their patient father a newly finished canvas, like there was any chance he would be any less than a hundred percent proud. “Like, forever, practically. So it’s really not my best –”

“Mikester, this is _amazing_.” Raph stepped closer to the door, and he couldn’t see what painting they were looking at, but he could make out the careful way Woody held the canvas at the edges, the slow sweep of his eyes as he drank it in. “I’m definitely gonna have to start sneaking into the art department at school more often, if this is the kind of painting you do there.”

And Mikey lit up from the inside out, a pleased pride that burned away all those gray shadows of uncertainty in his face, and Raph couldn’t help smiling as his closest sibling promised to show Woody his secret art studio in the old garage.

Woody nodded, and at some point his warm, wondering expression transitioned from the canvas to Michelangelo, but it didn’t shift or change; as though one work of art was as good as another.

And that was when Raphael decided he’d seen enough. He stepped quietly away from the door, fixed his grip on the stupidly heavy cot, and continued down the hall. At least now he knew why Don kept looking at the two of them with that cat-ate-the-canary smile.

Shouldering open his door, Raph announced, “Next time you come over, you’re bringing your own damn bed. I ain’t haulin’ this thing back up here for anybody.”

He dropped into his computer chair, and watched Casey roll his eyes and drag himself upright, surrounded on all sides by his lazy unpacking. About that time, a knock on the open door drew Raph’s eyes up to Donnie, who smiled crookedly at him from the doorway and said, “Someone’s here to see you.”

Huh.

He stood back up, every inch of his tired body protesting the whole way, and crossed the room. “I’ll be right back,” Raph said, and Casey flapped a hand noncommittally, looking largely unenchanted at the prospect of fighting with the cot when there was a comfortable bed all ready to go right behind him. Which prompted Raph to add, on his way out, “If you pass out in my bed, you’re waking up on the floor.”

“Rude.”

Raph was grinning as they thumped down the stairs, and Donnie said, “Casey seems like a cool guy.”

“He’s really not.”

“Aren’t you precious. She’s waiting for you on the porch.”

That drew Raph up short, and he stopped hard right in front of the open front door as Donnie broke off toward the kitchen. _She_ could really only be one person, and lead settled in the pit of Raph’s stomach as he swallowed hard, and pushed open the screen door.

“Raphael,” Yelizaveta greeted him warmly as he stepped outside. “I heard you were back in town.”

 _How?_ Raph wanted to ask, but his tongue was glued to the bottom of his mouth. She looked exactly like she did the last time Raph saw her—tall, and thick with muscle, and beautiful in a somewhat lethal way—and Raph had absolutely no idea what she was doing on his porch.

“Hey, Lisa,” he said, trying to sound civil and mature and not hopelessly awkward. “How, uh—how have you been?”

Her smile faltered a little, and she looked down at her hands. “I’ve been fine. But I have missed you.”

Oh.

“I’ve been thinking about those things I said to you, the day we broke up. I was harsh.” But the contrition faded pretty quickly as she added, “You have been avoiding me. You haven’t returned a single one of my phone calls.”

 _That_ was because Mikey changed his cellphone number, and showed him how to block Lisa on Facebook. And Mikey had cupped his face in both hands, and tipped their foreheads together, and kindly told him to “stop being such an idiot, Raph.” And Raph had taken that advice to heart.

When they first got together, he had thought Lisa was the best he’d ever have. He was _convinced_ he didn’t deserve her, because she was faster and stronger and smarter and better than him at generally everything. She wasn’t a mean-spirited person—she was usually a lot of fun, especially to compete with—but she was stubborn, and as condescending as she was kind. They were on and off _constantly_ all throughout high school, and Raph was always whipsawed back and forth between hurt and hope when he saw her.

Lisa dumped him for keeps when he made it clear UCLA was going to be a thing. Furious that he had put Mikey’s opinion ahead of her own, unwilling to try to make a long-distance relationship of that magnitude work. And that had stung, but he figured it was fair—and the break-up was mostly mutual, and they went on their own separate ways.

Except here she was again. What was _that_ about?

“Haven’t you missed me at all?” Lisa asked him plainly, searching his face for something.

“Well, sure,” Raph said slowly. “You were one of my best friends. It sucks that we stopped talking.”

“Exactly. We’ve known each other since we were children, Raphael,” she said, heartened by his answer. She was smiling in that pretty way that had earned her the yearbook nickname 'Mona Lisa,’ a moniker that had stuck with her for years. “Both of our families, both of our _lives_ are rooted here. And we dated for so long, and we had a good time with one another. It just makes _sense_ for us to be together now.”

_'What would you do without me, Raphael?’_

“I’ll be inheriting my father’s business soon,” Lisa told him, holding his eyes. “I know what I want. And you and I make a pretty pair.”

And she moved, one hand going to her pocket and the other reaching for Raph’s arm, and Raph forgot how to breathe. Oh, holy shit, no way, no way, this wasn’t happening, _absolutely no way was this happening, holy—_

“Raaaphie!” Mikey sang from the foyer, his thumping footsteps stilling Lisa’s hands and pushing sweet air back into Raph’s lungs. Not for the first time, he thanked god for his baby brother, and seized Mikey’s timely interruption as a means of escape. Trying to look put-upon, he took a few steps back and reached for the screen door.

“That’s Mikey. It’s pretty crazy inside with the guests we have over, there’s a hundred things to do—so I better get back. Sorry.”

“Oh. Well, that’s okay. I’ll see you and your family tomorrow night at the country club; we can talk then.”

Raph waited for Lisa to get into her car before he turned tail and ran.

“She said _what_?” Mikey squawked, watching Raph with wide eyes as the older of the two paced back and forth. His reaction was satisfying—if there was on thing in the world Raph could count on, it was his baby brother. “That's—I mean, that’s insane. Right? After, what, _four_ months, she just decides to walk back all that nasty stuff she said and then flat-out _propose_? Like that’s a _normal_ thing _normal_ people do?”

“Wait, hold on,” Casey said slowly, brow furrowed. “ _She’s_ gonna ask _you_ to marry _her_?”

And if that was seriously the only problem he had with the situation, Raph was going to punch him in the mouth. “I don’t have time for your heteronormative bullshit right now, Jones, this is serious!” he snapped, and Casey held up his hands in surrender.

“Jesus, I was joking. I just don’t see what the big deal is. I mean—she dumped you. You guys aren’t a thing, you don’t have a kid, you didn’t sign any prenup. On what planet are you obligated to marry her?”

“I’m _not_. But I can’t just tell her no. You have no idea what she’s like. When she wants something, she just—goes at it till she gets it.”

“Ugh,” Mikey said, with feeling.

“And I mean, we dated for a _long_ time. She’s still a good friend. I don’t want to—to, you know, hurt her feelings.” Raph could feel his face turning red, and looked anywhere but at Casey, arms folded tightly across his chest. His roommate’s bright eyes felt like a spotlight somehow, and Raph had absolutely no idea how to stand in one of those.

“Well, look, amigo,” Woody interjected, smiling in that kind, easy way he always did, “the longer you wait, the harder it’s going to be. The best thing you can do is be honest with her.”

“We’ll help you think of what to say,” Mikey piped up immediately. “We’ll roleplay. Casey, you be Lisa.”

“Hell yes.”

“Hell _no_. Woody’s right.” Raph rubbed a hand through his hair, and sighed. “I’ll just be straight with her. I’ll tell her tomorrow night.”

* * *

The rich breakfast spread of chicken fried steak and gravy, bacon, fried eggs and hashbrowns made something in the pit of Raph’s chest twist as he sat down. There was something about the familiar smell, and the warmth and light of the open dining room, and sitting surrounded on all sides by his family, that calmed the storm of anxious dread in the back of his brain that Lisa had put there the night before.

Father, sitting at the head of the table, put down his fork and frowned.

“Michelangelo, I forgot the biscuits. Would you mind getting them? They’re in a basket on the kitchen counter.”

“Sure,” Mikey said agreeably, scooting back from the table. Raph caught the tail-end of a knowing look as it passed between Don and Leo, and gave them both the fish-eye; but anything he might have said was interrupted by the _shriek_ of glee from the kitchen.

Father and Donnie both laughed, while Leo got up to pour a cup of coffee for the empty seat next to his. _Oh_ , Raph realized.

“What,” Casey said at length, through a mouthful of egg.

He had dozed off into his breakfast two times so far, and if it happened again, Raph was just going to let him sleep in a pile of gravy, father’s disapproving stare notwithstanding. The rest of them were used to rising with the sun—their Californian friends, not so much. Woody was sound asleep upstairs, because according to Mikey “he doesn’t eat breakfast,” and “I promise he won’t know English until noon.”

“We have company,” Raph replied dryly, watching him sidelong. Every stupid thing Casey did was impossibly charming somehow. What an asshole.

The dark-skinned man who came into the dining room at that point was as familiar as the rest of Raph’s home was, and Raph smiled up at him like a knee-jerk reaction; breaking into a short laugh at the heavy hand that landed on his head, tousling his short hair.

Leatherhead had worked as a farmhand for Yoshi for as long as Raph could remember; he lived at their house, and celebrated their birthdays, and drove them to school when the roads were wrecked with rain and the schoolbus couldn’t make it their way.

Mikey was wrapped around his shoulders like a giant koala, bright-faced with joy.

“I thought you were going home for Thanksgiving, Uncle L,” he said, accusatory, and his voice trembled on the verge of tears in a way that would have put Raph on edge any other time. “That’s what you told me on Facebook!”

“Those plans fell through,” the man said simply enough. “So I thought I would surprise you.” He reached up to tap Mikey on the forehead with a broad finger. “And besides, Michelangelo, this _is_ my home. You know that.”

The sound Mikey made at that could best be described as “verbal keyboard mash,” and from the doorway of the dining room, a pajama-clad Woody laughed quietly, kindly, behind his hand.

After breakfast, everyone had something to do. Don and Leo had friends to catch up with, and Mikey wanted to show Woody around town, so the four of them borrowed the truck for the day. Casey could have gone with them, but he seemed to stay true to his initial fascination with the farm, eagerly tailing Raph around the yard. He was in work-appropriate jeans and a T-shirt, hair pushed back by a folded black bandanna, and Raph carefully didn’t look at him for too long at a time.

There was always work to be done around the house, always chores to be done around the yard, and Raph pointedly ignored their father’s instructions to enjoy his vacation and relax. As much as he complained about it before, it felt strange to be home and will himself to ignore the hole in the goat pen, and the eggs in the henhouse, and the hungry pigs.

It was a little surreal how easily Casey settled into place, around the house and the farm. Like there was a slot left open for him, and he just slid right in, the perfect fit. Looking over at him—bare shoulders bumping Raph’s as they shared a can of cold cream soda, bright hazel eyes and lopsided grin transplanted from the streets of L.A. to the sunny South Dakota country—felt natural.

Like he belonged there, wherever Raph was.

“Raph, holy shit,” he said abruptly, going absolutely still. His tone had Raph on edge, following his line of sight—wondering for an absurd moment if he had seen a coyote or a fox stalking towards the chicken coop—until Casey added, very quietly, “What is _that_?” and Raph finally saw what he was looking at.

He rolled his eyes, setting the soda aside. “It’s a _sheep_ , dude.”

“Fuck you, man, it’s a _baby_. That's—oh my god, that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever—I’m going in.”

Raph grinned as his friend clambered over the wooden post fence, and hopped up after him once he made it gracelessly to the other side. Animal crackers crunched underfoot, a one-off treat for the fluffy, pampered pets of the family, and Raph had to smile at such stark evidence of Mikey having come and gone already.

Their family’s Romney sheep were fat, lazy things, _strictly_ reared for _wool only_ , after an incident when Mikey was six, and the neighbors came by with some hogget cuts. They made the mistake of telling the youngest member of the Hamato clan where the meat had come from, and there wasn’t a force on earth that could have calmed Raph’s little brother after that. A tearful Mikey had refused to be budged from the barn, camping in the sheep stalls and clinging to his lambs, until their father coaxed him out with the solemn promise that they wouldn’t eat any of the sheep.

The compromise was that he wasn’t allowed to get attached to the chickens or the pigs. The system was still in place, all these years later, and Mikey avoided the hog enclosure to that very day.

In the shade of the overhang, near one of the mounted ventilation fans, a ewe was laying with her lamb. Casey was already talking cute nonsense at them, easing his way close enough to pet. It was the work of a few moments to get the lamb interested, and when the little thing fell asleep in his lap, he was beside himself.

“Raph, get my phone. Take a picture. Raph, what are you doing, _take a picture!”_

He recorded a video instead. Casey’s 4G was struggling this far out in the country, but Raph uploaded the video to Facebook anyway; tagging all of his brothers, and a ton of their friends from school, and the feed was already blowing up as he handed Casey’s phone back. Casey grinned at him, that lopsided, slanting thing that did something funny to Raph’s stomach, and ran his fingers over the soft, springy wool on the little sheep’s head.

“I freakin’ love it here,” he said. “Sure beats bein’ alone in Cali. Thanks again, man.”

“Shut up,” Raph muttered, and hoped he’d be able to blame the sun for any stupid flush that might have filled his face.

* * *

The country club wasn’t The Ritz Casey seemed to be expecting. It was where their family went for special occasions, but it wasn’t at all exclusive—the only requirement was the small monthly membership fee. Essentially, it was just the nicest restaurant in town, and it wasn’t odd to see every friend and neighbor there all in the same evening.

As a hostess led them to their usual table, Mikey was chatting with Woody and Uncle L, alight with the perpetual cheer he had adopted during his time in California. His bleach-blond hair was getting more than a few lingering looks, and it was fair, Raph thought, that these people who had known Mikey his whole life be a little surprised at such a stark change.

But there was nothing passive or cursory about the way Chris Bradford was staring at Raph’s little brother. He leaned back in his chair to look around his mother as the Hamatos passed by, studying Mikey like a judge at a 4H contest. Leo noticed, maybe even before Raph did, and the glare he gave Chris could have withered fresh flowers.

It worked in turning Chris around, at least. Raph made a mental note to keep tabs on Mikey for the rest of the week—thinking sourly that it was just like Bradford to give him a reason to want to leave, when so far he’d been having a pretty good time being home.

Well, _another_ reason, anyway. Lisa was here somewhere, and Raph was dreading the conversation he was going to have to have before the night was over.

Halfway through the breadbaskets, even before the servers started making the rounds with drinks, Woody’s eyes strayed past Raph’s shoulder and he choked over his glass of water.

“Wrong pipe?” Casey thumped him on the back helpfully.

“No, it’s – ” He looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Raph, turn around.”

Raph turned around, and then wished he hadn’t. Lisa was on her feet at the front of the room, beside the table where her parents and grandparents were sitting. She was raising a glass to make a toast, and everyone fell silent in an agreeable way. Her eyes were on him.

“She’s doing it _now_?” Mikey hissed, and Leo and Don stared at the group at the end of the table with raised eyebrows.

“What’s going on, guys?” Don asked slowly. He looked like he wasn’t sure if it was going to be a problem or a prank. Raph couldn’t have answered even if he had any idea what to say. His mouth was hanging open uselessly.

“As you all know, Raphael and I have dated for almost five years now,” Lisa started, her voice rising and filling the room. “And I think of you all as family, I considered it important that we include you in this very special occasion.”

“Woah,” Leo said, very quietly. Father was absolutely still at the head of the table, watching Raphael as carefully as a mother bird, and Raph wanted to literally sink through the floor and disappear.

 _I was going to talk to her after dinner,_ he thought stupidly. _Why couldn’t she have waited until after dinner?_

“Do something!” he heard Mikey whispering fiercely, followed by Casey’s “What am _I_ supposed to do?”

But before Lisa could even pull the ringbox out of her pocket, the chair next to Raphael’s chair skidded back across the thin carpet, and Casey was on his feet.

“Right,” he said, “that’s right. Thanks, Lis’. What she means is, uh. That Raph and I have an announcement to make. To his whole town, for some reason.” He floundered, then visibly rallied himself, and continued, “At school, I asked Raph to marry me. And he said yes. So we’re engaged now.” Casey turned to look at Raph’s father at that point, apologetic. “No ring, 'cause we’re both broke most of the time. Sorry.”

And he sat down.

The entire room was dead silent for a full two minutes, and no one at Raph’s table said a word. He could feel everyone’s eyes on his shoulders, his family staring at him from around their table. Someone nudged his knee, and he scraped the bottom of the barrel for enough courage to lift his eyes.

“Congratulations?” Leo told him. It sounded like a question.

“Uh,” he said eloquently. Very slowly, conversation throughout the rest of the dining room picked up again, and the world kept spinning. Lisa was gone, and there was no condemnation in his brothers’ eyes.

He risked a look at Casey. Casey looked right back.

Swallowing, Raph found his voice. “Yeah. Thanks.”


	3. Chapter 3

Raphael was one-hundred and fifty percent certain his life was over.

His brothers kept throwing him bewildered looks, staring between him and Casey as though trying to form a connection that wasn’t there. Going over what they knew in a new light, and drawing lines between every interaction they had seen so far and the bombshell Casey dropped on essentially the _entire town,_ and wrapping their minds around the idea of Raph and Casey actually being _Raph And Casey._

“I need some air,” Raph said abruptly over Leo’s fourth attempt to draw him into conversation, standing up so sharply that he bashed his knee into the tabletop and rattled the glassware. “ _Shi_ – shoot. Sorry. _Jones,_ you wanna come with me? For some air?”

“Dude, the food’ll be here soon.”

Raph’s murderous intent probably showed on his face, because Mikey stood up a second later. “I’ll go with you guys.”

“Oh, god, please don’t leave me here,” Woody said very quietly, scrambling out of his chair to follow them.

Which is how Raph found himself pacing the parking in the warm country night air, hands folded into tight fists at his side. Woody and Mikey were sharing a cement parking block, sitting with their knees folded up by their chins and watching Raph’s back-and-forth march with solemn eyes. Casey was leaned against the wall without a care in the world, and it made Raph want to grab him by the shirt and shake him.

“ _That_ was your move?” he bit out. “Faking an engagement? Jesus _Christ,_ Jones!”

“Hey, I didn’t see any of _you_ comin’ up with any brilliant ideas,” he shot back with a scowl. “And it ain’t like I had days to think it over!”

“C'mon, Raphie, it’s not Casey’s fault,” Mikey interjected before Raph could give voice to any one of numerous scathing retorts. He looked pale and worried for him, face a wash of tired yellow from the buzzing streetlight overhead. “We were all pretty much put on the spot back there. At least the thing with Lisa is taken care of.”

“ _Okay,_ but this is – ”

“A lot better,” Woody said calmly. When Raph cut a glance at him, he added, “You’re in complete control of the situation now. When we get back to your place, we’ll explain the whole thing. Just play it cool through dinner, alright?”

“Yeah!” Mikey piped up, looking exhaustively relieved. He tilted a shining look Woody’s way. “There’s nothing to worry about, bro, we’ll sort this out first thing once we’re home.”

Except that the first thing that happened once they got home was _Leo_ , successfully cornering Raph alone on the back porch. Woody shot him a sympathetic glance over Leo’s shoulder but ultimately abandoned him to his older brother’s mercies in favor of following Mikey around like a second shadow. Goddammit.

“Dude,” Raph headed him off, “it’s been a _night,_ okay, just – ”

“Look, I know you don’t want to talk about it,” Leo said with a firm hand on Raph’s arm, curtailing his attempts to get the hell out of dodge. But it was less that and more the earnest look in his wide almond eyes that kept Raph’s feet rooted reluctantly to the floor. “I know that you probably had planned to tell us the news while we were together for the holidays, and I’m really sorry Elizaveta made it necessary for you to announce your engagement the way you did.”

Raph wanted to sink through the floor and disappear for maybe the rest of his life. Hoarsely, he said, “Leo, that’s not – ”

“Just hear me out,” his big brother insisted, and somehow his expression only got more sincere. “I’ve – been texting you a lot recently about a guy I met on campus. Usagi. Remember?”

Raphael hazarded a nod, and shifted so that Leo’s grip on his wrist was less of a grab and more of a hold. Leo nodded back, as though he needed the encouragement, and took a deep breath.

“I like him,” he blurted, cheeks coloring. “I like him a lot.”

Oh.

_Oh._

“Oh,” Raph said, eyes huge in his face. Leo was still nodding, looking equal parts panicked to have said it out loud and relieved to part with the confession. He was staring at Raph like Raph had all the power to destroy him with a single word or harsh look, and Raph found he didn’t care for that shit at _all._ “Look, man, that’s – whatever, you know? You didn’t really think we’d _care,_ did you?”

“I don’t know,” Leo said quietly, letting go of Raph’s arm. “I mean – I told myself I was being stupid, but – ”

Raph could feel himself start to frown thunderously at the idea that Leo could tote around the ridiculous concept that his family’s love for him was   _conditional_. And maybe it was a little hypocritical, since the same quiet worries had circled Raph’s head, too, back when he was first irreparably charmed by the most obnoxious roommate in the history of UCLA – but at the same time, it was _different._ It was _Leo._

“Hell yeah, you were being stupid. Look, as long as he’s a good guy, as long as he doesn’t – ” He thought of Bradford and the end of Mikey’s sophomore year and abruptly saw red. Thought of the man Leo had his eye on doing anything similar, and his fists clenched so hard it hurt. “ – _hurt_ you, y'know, in whatever way, then it don’t matter. Not a lick. And our brothers and dad and Uncle L will all tell you the same thing. You _know_ they will.”

There was a sheen to Leo’s eyes that looked like it might be tears, but he chuckled warmly. Rubbed his face with the sleeve of his shirt and hitched up a smile so wide it probably could have left a permanent impression.

“Well – that’s why I wanted to talk to you,” he said. “To say thanks.”

Something close to dread pooled in the pit of Raph’s stomach. “Thanks?”

“Yeah. I was scared, but you made it less scary. You’ve always been so much braver than me.”

Fearless Leo’s eyes shone for a split second before he moved forward a swift step and tugged Raph into a solid hug. They were about the same height, Raph realized dimly, and wondered when _that_ had happened. It was autopilot to put his arms around Leo in turn, and he only got squeezed tighter for his troubles.

“I’m going to talk to father before I go back to school. Thanks, Raph, really.”

Raph closed his eyes, and allowed himself an inward and heartfelt, _Fuck._

* * *

“There is no fucking way we can call it off now,” Raph said, waving his hands wildly. “No _fucking_ way.”

He had called an Immediate Emergency Meeting, which was why they were all clustered in the back shed, AKA Mikey’s childhood art studio. The overhead light was still swinging from the fifth time Casey had smashed his head into it, and subsequently Casey was rubbing his forehead and cussing under his breath.

Similarly, Woody was only half-listening; eyes roving the room like he was trying to commit ever inch of the dust-covered space to memory, lingering on old painted canvases and listing sculptures like there was treasure to be found among them.

Raph had Mikey’s full attention at least. His little brother was perched on the workbench, watching him with wide, worried hazel eyes.

“Well,” he said slowly, “it’s still okay. We’ll just ride this thing out, y’know? I mean, we’re only gonna be here for the rest of the week, right? And then when we go back to school everything will go back to normal, you can call and say the two of you broke it off or something. Right?”

“I – yeah, I mean.” Raph ran an agitated hand through his hair, forcing himself to calm down. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

Mikey beamed at him, tension easing out of his shoulders. Raph was _unspeakably_ grateful, for the millionth time in his life, that he could always count on having Mikey on his team. Things never seemed as bad with him around.

“So you and Case just gotta act couple-y until then! No problem!”

Casey snorted, and Woody whipped around with a delighted expression. “’No problem’? _Mikester_.”

“What? What’d I say?”

Raph prayed that the shitty lighting in Mikey’s shed would be enough to hide the way his face turned red. From the coy look on his little brother’s face, and the amused look on Woody’s, he knew that was probably a fool’s hope.

Casey was still rubbing his forehead but he was watching Raph closely now, with something measured and thoughtful in his eyes.

Later, in the relentless quiet of Raph’s bedroom, the scattered feet between his bed and Casey’s cot seemed to stretch into miles. It was nothing like their first night there – nothing like every night for the past few months in their dorm room at school – when they could stay up and talk about anything, cradled safely in the dark as they learned to navigate each other’s pitfalls.

It was uncomfortable. The learned familiarity was gone. Raph was grasping for it at the corners.

Casey’s cot creaked as he rolled over, and his voice drifted through the space between them cautiously.

“Raph? You awake?”

With the blanket pulled up around his ears, Raphael pretended not to be.

* * *

Raph went slinking out of the house early the next morning. He waved to Uncle L when he passed him in the kitchen, put together a quick breakfast of leftovers out of the fridge, and crept out the side door into the yard while the sky was still more dark than light.

Father would have started the chores already. Raph wouldn’t see him until lunch. He wanted to talk – it’s _obvious_ he wanted to talk – but he had always given his kids the whole of his faith, and probably trusted Raph to come and find him on his own when he was ready.

Fat chance of that.

Hiding in the horse barn, Raphael leaned against the wall and put his head in his hands and tried very hard not to lose his collective shit.

If the thing with Lisa wasn’t bad enough, now he’s _fake_ dating a guy he wants to _actually_ date, and it’s _fake_ going really well, apparently, because they’re _fake planning to get married._

He suckered himself into this situation in the first place, inviting Casey along for the visit home, but the kicker is he can’t even really bring himself to regret it. Not when the alternative would have been Casey on his own back in California. 

_He’s had a good time,_ Raph thought, and didn’t want to take a moment of it back.

“Yo,” Casey said abruptly, drawing Raph’s head up sharply. His sleep-touseled friend was in the wide doorway of the barn, looking distinctly unimpressed with him and the world and wakefulness in general. “Are you seriously avoiding me? Weak as hell, man.”

Raph could only stare at him, trying to find his footing in this conversation he was desperately unprepared for. Casey took pity on him after a moment and gestured over his shoulder.

“My buddy showed me where you were. I named her Chompy by the way, on account of the hole she chewed into my shirt the other day.” 

Raph followed his hand to the fence opposite the barn, where the newest addition to the family sheep was gazing dolefully at them through the gap in the wooden posts. He blinked, and looked back at Casey, and said, “You can’t name Mikey’s sheep Chompy. That’s a stupid name.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re all named after like, artists and shit. Okay, fine in keeping with family tradition, she can be Chompy Picasso.” 

“No. Just – no. I’m gonna. Hold on.”

He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and sent a text to Mikey; who was probably still up at ass o’clock in the morning after having not gone to bed in the first place in favor of a sci-fi movie marathon with Don and Woody.

Sure enough, Raph got a reply almost immediately.

> **To: Mike  
>  _case is tryin to  
>  name ur lamb   
> chompy picasso_**
> 
> **From: Mike  
>  _!!!! thats the best  
>  name EVER tell   
> him thx omfg_**

“Okay, well, it’s official,” he said, pocketing his phone again. “I don’t know any of you. You’re all total strangers. Get out of my house.”

“Pfft. That makes this engagement a little weird, don’t it?”

Raph didn’t flinch, but it was a close call, and he jerked his eyes away to stare at the wall, and then the ground. He didn’t want to talk about, didn’t know why he thought he could avoid it, wanted for there to be a way to go back and face Lisa from the beginning the way he should’ve – the way she deserved – instead of hiding from the situation like a coward.

He should have –

 _“Raph,_ ” Casey barked, “stop freaking out, Jesus _Christ!”_ His tone was sharp, but mostly without anger, and the steps forward he took were hurried. “I’ll slap you in the face to snap you out of it like in every bad Lifetime movie you’ve ever seen, don’t even try me.”

“You don’t watch Lifetime movies.”

“Fuck you, you don’t know what I watch.” Casey punched him in the shoulder, just hard enough to leave a residual ache there after his fist fell away. “And I don’t know what bullshit is running through your head right now, but we’re _fine._ This whole thing was my fault, and I’ll deal with it. So quit acting like the world’s comin’ to an end, you moron.”

Raph risked a glance up at him, disbelieving. Casey looked ready to throw another punch, agitated in a restless way that spoke more of worry than anything else.

And Raph _felt_ like a moron.

“Fuck. Case, look – “

But they were both interrupted by the dark head of a dapple grey stallion as it leaned over the door of its stall to see what all the commotion was about. It flicked an ear and shook out its mane before craning a long neck over to inspect Casey curiously.

“Holy shit,” Casey said, completely side-tracked as he stared at the approaching horse with wide eyes. “There’s a monster in your barn.”

“This is Spike.” Raph patted him fondly. “He’s nosy.”

“Yeah, I’ll say.” Casey put out his hands cautiously, and Spike leaned his nose into the cradle of his palms, snuffling wetly around for treats. “Ew,” Casey added, delighted. 

Raph watched them for a minute, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“So,” he ventured, “we’re good?”

“Yeah, man. We’re good. Unless you keep acting like an _idiot_ , goddamn.”

Spike lipped at the hem of Casey’s shirt affectionately. Casey squawked, and Raph’s heart did a complicated flip in his chest.

Raph’s brothers, and his father, and his uncle all approved of Jones, whether the knew the full truth about the situation or not—but it was something else, something _important_ , that his horse approved of him, too.

 _Fake_ dating, he reminded himself viciously, knowing already that the reminder wouldn’t stick.

* * *

The day before Thanksgiving, there was a big dance hosted at the rec center for the young adult crowd. The six of them took Uncle L’s truck, tired of being cooped up at the farm, and if the drinks provided weren’t spiked Raph would spike them his _damn_ self.

“You see Lisa anywhere?” he asked, leaning against the wall next to Casey with a cup of warm punch. 

“Am I s’posed to be lookin’ for her?”

“I owe her an explanation.”

“You don’t owe anybody shit, bro, but I’ll keep an eye out.”

On Raph’s other side, Donnie straightened so abruptly that it got Casey, Raph and Leo’s – from the other side of the refreshments table – attention all at once. And before any of them had a chance to so much as open their mouths, he was pushing off the wall and striding through the crowd with vicious intent, looking ready to steamroll any number of people out of his way.

“What the heck,” Leo said, frowning. He was searching the room for the source of Donnie’s sudden beeline, and found it moments before Raph did. 

Something ice-cold and toothed reared its ugly head in the pit of Raph’s chest at the sight of Bradford dragging his little brother out the back door. With a bitter taste in the back of his throat, he dropped his cup and shoved his way across the dance floor after Leo.

The back was for deliveries, with a wide gravel drive and a small storage shed. It was much quieter and darker out there, where the lights and the music and the dull roar of conversation from the party they had left behind were distant and muted.

Donnie was boxed in the doorway, frozen, with a hand over his mouth. Leo all but picked him up and moved him out of the way, face dark with furious fear, but after a second to take in the scene, he was motionless, too.

“What the fuck,” Raph blustered, shoving past, “ _move_ , don’t just – “

“Holy shit,” Casey said from behind him. 

Bradford was crumpled on the ground, a bloody hand trembling over his broken nose. His lettermen’s jacket was stained with it, his cronies standing well back, and Woody was lowering his hands as Raph put the pieces of the scene together into a cohesive picture. 

Holy shit was right. 

“Keep your hands to yourself,” Woody said mildly, eyes cold as he looked Bradford over. “I really don’t want to have to tell you again.”

He looked like he _really_ wanted to have to tell him again.

Reaching out without looking away from Bradford for a second, Woody gathered Mikey up under his arm, curling the smaller blond in tight against his side. Mikey’s eyes were wide but it was _wonder_ in his face, and the beginnings of delight, and any shadow of that awful misery from moments earlier was burned completely away.

“Dude,” he whispered adoringly, “You’re a _ninja.”_

Woody’s icy expression gentled for him, almost absurdly, and if Raph looked to his left he’d see Donnie looking smug as shit at having been right about something no one else could have guessed from the very beginning,  _again._ “Something like that. My aunt’s an MMA fighter. She taught me a lot. I took lessons for a few years, too.”

“Holy cats! Woody! That’s, like, maximum rad!” 

Grinning down at him, Woody said, “ _Anyway,_ weren’t we about to go dance?”

With a gasp, Mikey snatched up his hand and tugged him back toward the door. He looked surprised to see his brothers there, but he greeted them with a smile that didn’t shake, and Donnie touched Woody’s arm for a moment of exhaustive, wordless thanks. 

Woody shook his head with a stubborn glint in his eye, squeezing Mikey’s hand tighter. 

“Message received,” Leo said with a grin, and Raph watched Donnie take a mean delight in locking the back door behind them when they returned to the party. Not that he was worried about Bradford showing his ugly face anywhere near Mikey again anytime soon. He owed Woody a drink or ten for that. 

“Dude,” Casey said, “what the hell is up with that guy? Why’s he got it in for Mike?”

There was a wet floor sign and a disgruntled janitor cleaning up the spilled drinks Raph and his brothers left behind earlier. Raph went in search of a new spot to stand in.

“You know the movie Carrie?”

“Sure.”

“Same deal. Except instead of pig blood there at the end, Bradford got him up on stage in the middle of the homecoming dance and outed him in front of god and everybody.”

“Jesus _fuck.”_

“I got suspended that night for two weeks for beating the shit out of Bradford, but dad gave the principal so much hell she brought it down to one.” Glancing sidelong at Casey, Raph added, “Mikey got bullied after that, bad. Not for long, I mean, he doesn’t have three big brothers for _nothing_. But it left a mark on him, y’know, it really did some damage.”

“You think Woody knew?”

“I dunno. _I_ didn’t tell him. And Mikey doesn’t talk about it. Anyway, I don’t think it matters. Anyone who looks at Mikey cross-eyed is gonna have fuckin’ Bruce Lee to deal with, and I’m _more_ than fine with that.”

It wasn’t hard to find them on the dance floor, swinging each other around wildly and laughing louder than the band could play. The Mikey of two years ago wouldn’t recognize himself if he could see it, Raph thought. Dancing close with another boy in front of their whole small-minded town like there wasn’t a single goddamn thing to be ashamed of.

* * *

That night, warm with the alcohol they picked up on the way home and groggy, Raph fell into bed with his clothes on. Barely a minute later, hands were shoving at his chest and shoulder, and Casey was muttering, “Scoot over, dude, I’m not sleeping on that fucking thing anymore.” 

At three a.m. it made sense, and Raph rolled over to make room for him.

A rooster call woke him up scant hours later, and he blinked painfully through a hangover into the weak sunlight beginning to poke its fingers through the windows of his bedroom. 

His arm was slung over Casey’s waist. Casey was drooling on his shoulder. His head hurt too much to process either of those things.

“Yer thinkin’ too loud,” Casey muttered softly, the words wincing and whispered. “Too hungover for that shit.”

“Case – “

“I swear to god – “ 

“No, listen,” Raph was saying stupidly. “I don’t want to fake date you. It’s driving me insane, I don’t want to do it anymore. So that’s why we should – “

With a soft cuss, Casey jerked upright. Raph had exactly one second to worry before his roommate was clambering on top of him, straddling his waist with a twisted comforter between them and leaning down with tangled hair and blurry eyes to kiss Raph quiet. 

It worked like a charm – Raph shut right up. Casey kissed him for a lot longer anyway. Relentless, like there was something to make up for. Whatever it was, Raph was happy to give it, digging his fingers into his grip on Casey’s arms, keeping him as close as he could until the last possible moment.

* * *

> **To: X-XXX-XXX-XXXX  
>  _sorry abt dinner_  
>  the other night.   
> sorry about a lot   
> of stuff.**
> 
> **_**From: X-XXX-XXX-XXXX  
>  _Forgiven._** _ **
> 
> **__**To: X-XXX-XXX-XXXX**  
>  next time i visit   
> ill make it up to   
> you. promise**
> 
> **__**From: X-XXX-XXX-XXXX  
> ** You will do no   
> such thing. Next   
> time, I will make   
> it up to /you/. I   
> owe you that   
> much.   
> **
> 
> **From: X-XXX-XXX-XXXX  
>  _And I hope you’ll_  
>  introduce me to   
> your fiance. I   
> would like to   
> meet him. **
> 
> **Contact saved as “Mona Lisa.”**

“What are you smilin’ about?” Casey mumbled without lifting his head, word salad all but lost against Raph’s collarbone. 

“How do you know I’m smiling, you creep?” 

“C’n just tell. What’s up?” 

Raph set his phone aside, and pushed a hand through Casey’s hair. 

“Wanna come home with me again for Christmas?”

“Pretty sure I have a standing invitation from your entire family to crash _all_ your holiday get-togethers, loser.” He slung an arm across Raph’s waist and yawned. “Welcome to the married life. No getting rid of me now.”

“We aren’t married, dumbass.” 

“Fuck you, go back to sleep.”

The two of them in one bed was a tight fit, but the cot was all the way across the room, they were still existing on the tender plane of the very barely not hungover anymore, and it seemed like a waste to sleep so far apart anyway.

* * *

On Thanksgiving Day, three things happen:

Mikey fucking outdoes himself, to literally no one’s surprise, and the food is fantastic. He and Woody hold hands through most of the meal, and Raph and Donnie share a wry look when father surreptitiously passes Leatherhead, who has better lighting from his side of the table, the digital camera. 

Leo comes out to the rest of the family, and it goes more or less exactly the way Raph thought it would. Leo’s face is a pleased pink as he swipes through his phone at Mikey’s tireless demands for pictures of Usagi.

Raph clears his throat halfway through dessert and manages to meet his father’s eyes when he says, “There’s something I need to tell all of you. About the, uh. Engagement. See, we were – Case and I, we were never really – “

“ – sure about the wedding date,” Casey cuts in smoothly, claiming a third slice of pumpkin pie. “We figured we’d put things on hold, you know, till we’re done with school, at least. No sense rushing in, right?”

Mikey and Woody are grinning across the table at him. Casey is grinning around a mouthful of pie. Raph throws his last vestiges of caution to the wind and grins right back. 


End file.
